


FIFA Talks

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, FIFA, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Explicit Sex, Play Station, Saturday Afternoons, Teasing, grumpy Marco, grumpy Mario, mostly dialogues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Mario wants to spend a peaceful Saturday Afternoon with playing FIFA with his boyfriend's computer-animated counterpart. The real Marco has other plans, though...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).



> My dear mariothellama, consider this my long comment under your amazing gift for me. This is entirely your fault, I really should stop reading your wonderful fics before going to work...
> 
> My dear Sunny_Durmki, knowing how much you love Götzeus, this is for you, as well. When this story popped up in my mind after mariothellama's wonderful oneshot, it was clear that it would work only with Götzeus. I hope that you will like it. 
> 
> My dear readers, I wanted to write a fic consisting mostly of dialogues for a rather long time. This is what came out. If you liked it, please leave something for me, feedback is love.<333

The sight of a large and bright living room on an early Saturday afternoon. Silence except for the clicking sounds of a play station controller. One single person sitting on a comfortable couch, their attention fixed on the huge TV-screen where a well-known blond computer-animated Dortmund-player is running up and down in time to the clicking sounds. The only other noises breaking the peaceful silence on this sunny day except for the controller-clicking are the triumphant “has!” and “yes!” the person operating the controller lets out from time to time.

After a while, footsteps of bare feet on a carpet become audible and then, the sound of someone sitting down on the couch next to the player.

“What are you doing, Sunny?” The voice of the speaker who has just come in sounds suspiciously like the whining complaint of a four-years old in their defiant phase.

“Playing FIFA?! That's pretty obvious, I guess?! I told you that I wanted to play FIFA today, Marco, didn't I?” The answering tone of the person with the controller reminds of the slightly annoyed voice of someone talking to a not so clever person.

Silence for a few seconds, only the clicking sounds of the controller continuing.

“You could play with me a little bit instead?” The first voice has changed to hopeful and pleading.

“I remember having 'played' with you only one hour ago!” The second voice hasn't lost its strictness and determination, at all, its owner's attention still focused on the TV-screen and the well-known blond computer-player.

“But, isn't the real Marco much better than his computer counterpart, Sunny?”

“Nope. Not at the moment. Sorry, Mars.”

“Sunny, pleeaaaaase. I really could do with some attention.” The first voice sounds as if its owner was in dire straits now.

The reply of the second voice consists of an annoyed sigh. “Not now, Marco. I'm about to win with you. Later.”

“Later? You're not serious, Sunny! I have fixed a date with Auba for playing FIFA with him later, you know that, Mario!”

“Okay, that's how it is, then, Marco. Not. Now!!!”

“Hrmpf!!”

Another short moment of silence, then the sound of a zipper being pulled open becomes audible, together with an offended gasp.

“Marco! What are you doing? You're not going to jerk off right here on my couch while I'm sitting beside you, playing FIFA with your computer-self, are you?”

The rustling sound of clothing pulled out of the way. “A man has his needs, Sunny, you know that, don't you? If my computer-self is more interesting to you than the real me, then I'll have to take matters in my own hands.”

The unmistakable rhythmical noises of something rubbing over naked and wet skin start to fill the living room, together with soft moans and gasps.

“You're really going to pull this through, aren't you, Marco? Jerking off on my couch right next to me while I'm playing FIFA with your computer counterpart.”

“Yep, Sunny. You're welcome to join the game!”

“No way. I told you that I wanted to play FIFA with your FIFA-self this afternoon, so stop distracting me!”

“Yes, you did, Sunny, I know. Just go on, I'm perfectly fine, and I will do my very best to be as quiet as possible to not distract you too much. After all, you're about to win against Bayern with the computer-Marco, so please don't bother about me and my needs.”

“Hrmpf!!!!”

For a while, the clicking sounds of the controller are still audible – together with the moans, gasps and the rhythmical jerking off sounds, before they suddenly stop and the clattering of the controller being thrown onto the coffee table announces that the second speaker is finally willing to interrupt their game.

“If I'm going to help you out, will you let me play FIFA afterwards in peace and silence, Mars?” The voice sounds resigned, but also a little bit out of breath.

“Of course, Sunny! You have my word on that!”

“Fair enough.” More rustling sounds as the second speaker kneels down before the first speaker.

“Uh, yes, ah just like that, Sunny! Ah, your mouth feels always so perfect around my dick, yesssss, just like that. Ooooooohhh, a little bit faster, oooohhhhh, don't stop, that's soooo goood!”

For a while, all that is audible are more rhythmical sounds of naked and wet skin and lips, together with passionate gasps, moans and some slurping gulps. After some time, the moans and gasps become louder and more urgent.

“Ah, Sunny, you're truly skilled when it comes to blow jobs, you know that, don't you? This feels so good. Oh yes, right there, as deep as you can. This is much better than playing FIFA with my computer-self, isn't it?”

“Forrrr _sssllllrrrrppp_ you... _sssllllrrrrrpppp_ orrrrrr forrrr me... _sssslllrrrrrp_ , Marrrrrssss?”

“For both of us, of course! You're the only one allowed to play with the real Marco, all the others have to content themselves with my FIFA-self!”

“Your FIFA... _ssssllllrrrrpp_ \- ssselllffff is halllffff as annoying asssss the rrreall... _sssslllrrrpp_ Marrrccoo!”

“That's not true! How can you say that? And will you please stop talking about FIFA while you're blowing me, Sunny? That's some kind of disturbing?!” The first speaker seems to be truly offended, but the hoarseness of their voice betrays them.

“You sssstarted.... _sssssllllrrrrpp_ tttthat, Marco!”

“Only because you were more interested in the other Marco.... uuuuuuhhhh, aaaahhhh, yes, yes, keep doing that, Sunny, that's perfect, I'm... I'm... I'm going to uuuuhhhhh come... SUNNY!!!!”

The first speaker shouts out his ecstasy, drowning out the quiet sounds coming from the TV where the FIFA-Marco is waiting patiently for his real counterpart to finish.

Harsh breathing slowly calming down and some purring noises, then, the rustling of clothing and the sound of a zipper pulled back upwards again. The sound of the couch cushions shifting and creaking as someone rises to their feet.

“Marco, what are you doing?!” The second speaker's voice is a rather high-pitched, startked squeal now.

“I'm going to keep my promise, Sunny. You asked me to let you play with my computer-self undisturbed and peacefully after you having helped me out, and I'm always keeping my promises, Sunny, you should actually know that. I'm only doing what you wanted me to do!”

“B-b-b-ut, you c-c-c-can't leave me just like that!”

“Why not? All you wanted to do this afternoon was playing FIFA with my other self, didn't you?”

The sounds of footsteps crossing the living room in the direction of the hallway.

“Marco! Where the hell are you going? Come back to me, now!”

“I can't if I don't want to be too late for meeting my bro, sorry. I told you that I'm having a date with Auba to play FIFA later on, Sunny right?”

“What?! Are you kidding me? You're not telling me that you are leaving me to play FIFA with your bro now while I'm... I'm...?”

“Of course, Sunny, that's what I told you that I would do. I promised Auba to not be late, and I really don't want to let him wait, you know how much he hates that. Have fun with my FIFA-self, Mario. I can't wait to play with your FIFA-self against Bayern, Auba promised me that I can have you in my team and that I can choose the BVB as my club.”

“Mars, please, don't do that! Please, I need you to, to...”

“Later, Sunny, when I'm back, I promise you. I swear that I'll give you the best blow job ever when I'm home again. Have fun with computer-Marco, Sunny. Bye-bye!”

The sounds of someone taking their keys and pulling on their shoes and a jacket.

“Marco! I swear if you're going to leave me like that, then I will... Marco! MARCO???!!!!”

The rather loud bang of a closing front door then, some kind of shocked silence.

After two or three minutes, grumbling murmur becomes audible, together with the sound of another zipper being pulled open, forcefully.

Rhythmical noises of naked and wet skin follow and there's more grumbling, which finally turns into moans and gasps filling the air of the otherwise silent living room.

The gasps and moans become louder very quickly, then, a short cry of ecstasy.

Harsh breathing calming down.

The second speaker is sitting alone and half-naked on the couch in the bright and large living room, staring angrily at the blond player on the TV-screen, who is still waiting patiently for getting the second speaker's undivided attention back again.

“Just you wait, Marco Reus, I will pay you back for this.” The voice of the one single person sitting on their couch sounds rather grumpy, but also relieved now.

After another heartfelt sigh and the audible proof of clothing pulled back in order, the clicking sounds of the controller start anew as the second speaker continues to play with FIFA-Marco.

The sight of a large and bright living room on a not so early Saturday afternoon anymore. Silence except for the clicking sounds of the play station controller. One single person sitting on a comfortable couch, their attention fixed on the huge TV-screen where a well-known blond computer-animated Dortmund-player is running up and down in time to the clicking sounds. The only other noises breaking the peaceful silence on this sunny day except for the controller-clicking are the triumphant “has!” and "yes!" the person operating the controller lets out from time to time.

One hour later: “Hahhh! We've won against Bayern, Marco!”

The second speaker stands up and switches the TV-screen and the play station off before scribbling something onto the notepad lying on the sideboard in the hallway.

The sounds of keys and rustling clothes and shoes, the front door opening and closing again.

Peaceful silence for a rather long time.

Three hours later, the door opens again. “Sunny? I'm home again. Time for keeping my promise about the best blow job ever! Sunny! Sunny?”

The sound of a lamp being switched on, then the noise of an offended cry as the homecomer reads the note left for them. “Sunny!! That's not fair! How can you do that to me?! I can't believe that you're leaving me alone on a Saturday evening just like that!”

The rustling sound of paper as the second speaker reads the note again.

_'Hello Mars, don't wait for me, it's going to be late. I'm at André's place, playing FIFA with him. He promised me that I can have your FIFA-self as one of my players for my BVB-team. Love, Sunny.'_


End file.
